


into my parlour

by ZekeStrife



Series: the Dreemurr Family [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Asgore is such a Dad, Gen, Mob AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6060246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZekeStrife/pseuds/ZekeStrife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Muffet's loyalty is bought with gentle kindness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	into my parlour

Everyone knows of the Dreemurr Family.

Founded by Asgore Dreemurr way back when, when he was still the King of all Monsters.

Archaic times, indeed.

He was said to be kind-hearted. That even when pushed, he never attacked— never raised a hand at all.

Yes, Muffet knows of the Dreemurr Family.

It was impossible _not_ to— everybody in the business talked about them. The biggest Monster lead Family.

The kindest Family, too.

Muffet had avoided them, at first.

Any time a member of the Family would cross her path, she would evade them— sometimes she would abandon prey, sometimes she would move in for the kill much faster.

She was still young. Inexperienced. Still just spinning her web, still... learning.

She had no reason to risk herself like that.

But now— now she had a huge web, a _beautiful_ web. And, well. She was quite curious.

The Dreemurr Family was _such_ an interesting one. She really could not resist.

She started off simple.

Called in her own, private Family— thousand of young spiders, still growing, still learning.

Small, invisible to everyone.

They invaded the Dreemurr mansion— spun their own webs, crawled up in corners and hid where no one would notice them.

And so they watched.

They told her of all they saw.

The Head himself; his office where he seemed to spend most days, bent over paperwork. The young Monster who demanded he play with them.

The Right hand; only occasionally showing himself, ancient. Always with a laugh, talking with the Head like the oldest of friends.

The Fish; loud and assertive, and somehow still kind. Sometimes spending hours in the Head's office, quietly wasting time.

The Skeletons; two brothers, tall and short. Loud and quieter, one joking and one always smiling.

They told her of them all.

She learns all she can, really. The layout of the mansion, the routines of their daily lives.

And then, when she has nothing more to learn like this, she invites Asgore Dreemurr for tea.

She picks a place of her own— one of her million webs, a small warehouse no one sees anymore. Walls painted violet, and decorated with beautiful, fine spun silk.

He shows up alone.

Daylight barely reaching her doorstep, and he bows her head to her, clad in a fine, dark-coloured suit.

"Ms. Muffet," he greets her, head still bowed. "I must say, I was quite pleased to receive your invitation."

She inclines her head to him. Steps aside, and he walks in carefully, bends so his horns doesn't tear the web spun across the frame.

"And I, am pleased you accepted it."

He looks at her, briefly— then around himself, at the walls and the high ceiling, at the single table sat in the center of the room.

His smile is... something.

She is not sure what.

"This is a lovely place, Ms. Muffet," he says, and somehow she thinks he means it.

"Thank you," she says, slowly— it is a first.

She has already set out the tea, the china— one of her favourite sets, painted with small spiders and trails of glistening silk. When she gestures towards the table, his eyes immediately goes to it.

"My," his voice goes low, awed. "what a lovely tea set!"

Again, he seems to mean it.

"It is one of my favourites," she says, not quite sure why. She steps over to the table, gently touches the rim of one of the cups.

He follows her. Takes the chair facing the exit, and she lets him.

"I can see why," he says, sitting down. He takes the closest cup very gently, runs the tip of his thumb over it. "it is beautiful."

She looks up at him.

Fascinating.

She has already brewed the tea— the pot is still warm, of course, and she pours his first.

Then hers.

She wonders, as she sits down and he pulls his cup to him, if he realises it is poisoned.

They talk, over the table. All very much facade, simple polite chatter. He does not drink of the tea, simply holds it and lets the warm sink into his paws.

She cannot say she is not disappointed.

But, suddenly, she has no reason to be— he takes the first sip, doesn't even falter as he does so.

She barely manages to suppress her sudden interest.

She watches him with sharp eyes, as he gently sets the cup back down.

He smiles at her.

"I must say," his voice is warm, somehow. "that this is one of the most delicious teas I have ever tasted."

She draws back in her seat, baffled.

This is the third time he has complimented her, the third time it seems _genuine_.

She is used to sensing lies, to knowing when someone bluffs— Asgore Dreemurr does not ring any of those bells.

He is everything the rumours says he is.

And she has just poisoned him.

Conflicting, indeed.

She taps one long finger against her own cup, takes a sip— she watches him as intensely as she can, without being obvious about it.

He takes another sip.

She places down her cup.

"Mr. Dreemurr," her voice is crisp. "I have found you to be most fascinating. And, because of that—" she draws out a small, see-through vial from her dress. Places it gently on the table. "—I must give you this."

He doesn't look down at the vial. Doesn't look away from her.

"And why, Ms. Muffet, is that so?"

His voice is a rumble. Warm, and kind, and she cannot look at him.

She hesitates.

"... because I have just poisoned you."

Why does she feel like a child?

Why can't she look at him?

"Ah," his cup makes a quiet sound as it meets the table. "thank you for your honesty, Ms. Muffet."

His claws clink against the vial, and now that he has taken it, she finds she can look at him again.

He doesn't seem surprised.

"... You aren't shocked?"

He looks at her. Smiles.

"Ms. Muffet, I have been in this business for a _very_ long time," he chuckles, gently places the vial in his breast pocket. "assassination attempts are quite common. Especially from an _assassin_."

She ducks her head again.

But he simply laughs, a warm sound that makes her look up again.

"Thank you, Ms. Muffet, for the tea."

He stands.

"It was a pleasure to meet you."

 

Asgore makes sure to bow his head, when he steps outside.

The sun is bright and warm, and for a second, he lingers in it.

Then he sets off down the street.

His shoes make a pleasant sound as they strike the pavement, and soon, they are joined by an echo.

Gerson pulls up by his side.

"How'd it go?"

Asgore chuckles. "Well. She had the most lovely tea set."

Gerson chuckles, too. "Ah, did she?"

"Hmm, yes. Painted with silk and small spiders. Quite cute. You would have loved it."

Gerson shakes his head, smiling and still chuckling. "I would imagine so. Anything else worthy of comment?"

Asgore hums, digs into his breast pocket. Carefully withdraws the small vial.

"Ms. Muffet gave me the antidote. Perhaps Alphys could study it? Lethal though her poison is, I do not exactly need it."

Gerson takes the vial casually, pockets it even more so. "I'll get the robot to give it to her. I'm due for a visit to Grillby's anyway."

"Ah yes. Do give him my regards."

They walk down the street. Perfectly in sync, sunlight streaming over them— two old friends, simply enjoying the wonderful weather together.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, this one shot could simply be called 'Asgore Dads an Assassin'  
> writing this was kind of super fun, especially since Asgore and Muffet are both _very_ polite. especially in this setting.  
>  (as my friend put it  
> SUCH POLITE  
> MUCH POSH  
> FANCY)
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading! it you liked it, maybe leave a kudos, or a comment? it would be super appreciated. ♥


End file.
